This Is Wonderland
by malicious pixie
Summary: Takes place right after Dante takes off from Mallet Island. rnJust when the devil hunter thinks all is well and the underworld has been subdued. It isn't. And suddenly he's in a world that isn't under, but upside down. Sparda boy rivalry
1. Default Chapter

Ok. So I've been dying to write this and I need a little break from writing _One Will Fall_ so here it is. This is probably gonna be dark, but hopefully fun at the same time since it'll involve Wonderland. Think American McGee's Alice…or Disney gone oh so very wrong. Whatever. I just had to fling the Sparda boys together again.

Hope ya like it

Enjoy

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This is Wonderland**

**Prologue**

Watching the devil hunter retreat from the exploding Mallet Island, and loathing his regret and weakness from the abyss of the underworld, Vergil could still feel the heat of his final battle with his brother. He could still taste the acidy sickness of his defeat. His anger was a solid lump in his throat that threatened to choke him.

How could he have been overpowered, more than once, by that cocky sonuvabitch—that pathetic excuse for a Sparda and a brother? How he had lost to such a worthless being was beyond him. After all, he had had the raw power of the darkness on his side as well as the strong blood of his treacherous father running through his veins. Dante was merely the half devil spawn of a traitor. He had nothing else to back him up. So what was so incredible about him that had made him able to defeat both him and the Darkness?

When Vergil had lost it had been like a kick to the gut, but when Mundus fell…well, Vergil didn't know what to think of his brother anymore, or of his dark master.

"Dante." The name oozed like venom off the dark twin's tongue as another explosion shook the earth and caused a small fissure beside him to rupture and shoot fire. Burning embers fell onto his pale skin but he brushed them off lazily, thinking nothing of their heat. He was used to it by now, having spent the good portion of his life in the underworld. The sweltering temperature meant home.

"Nelo Angelo. Come." The voice of the Darkness was weak, yet still commanding. Hearing it, Vergil's cool blue eyes burned for a moment as he let out a low growl and swept his hand over the dark pool he had been using to watch his brother flee with the image of his mother. "What does HE want?"

Covering himself in a wispy dark aura, the half breed found himself kneeling before his broken master. His eyes remained averted to the ground but he did not need to see Mundus in order to sense his sudden weakness. A slight smirk flicked at the corner of his mouth before his face went passive again.

"My Lord," Vergil said in a deep tone of reverence, trying to keep his discontent with his master free from his voice. "You summoned me."

Mundus took a long time in answering and Vergil was about to lift his eyes questioningly when he heard the Darkness finally speak. "You have failed me Nelo Angelo."

Vergil flinched, barely holding back a scowl as he wanted to point out the fact that he wasn't the only one who had failed against his brother. He nodded solemnly. "Yes Master."

"Such weakness cannot be tolerated."

"No Master." Vergil agreed. Weakness could not be tolerated. He could see his fate coming.

"The pathetic must be done away with."

"Yes Master." He nodded this time and could feel his body glowing. Intense warmth spread through his limbs and chest. His eyes burned, remembering what had befallen those other minions who had failed the Darkness. He knew they had all met untimely demises. The weak pay with their lives.

Vergil lifted his gaze and slowly got to his feet. He was still in bad shape from his battles with his brother, but he was suddenly infused with new energy. Standing tall, he stared across at his master defiantly. His eyes danced with delight at the pathetic state his brother had put Mundus in, but his mouth remained stiff.

"The pathetic must be done away with," Vergil said darkly, only feeling more energized at Mundus' furious glare.

"KNEEL!" The Darkness raged back at his boldness, his livid gaze only growing as his command had no effect on his second. "HOW DARE YOU DEFY ME!? YOU WILL KNEEL NOW, NELO ANGELO!"

"No," Vergil stated calmly. "I have stood in your shadow long enough. I am finished quivering in your presence, Mundus. You are no better than I. You have no power over me."

Mundus roared and bore down on the cool half devil, striking out at him with red blasts of energy. Vergil simply stepped to the side to avoid them, his icy stare never wavering from the infuriated Darkness. Normally those attacks would have been dead on the mark and he would not have been given sufficient time to avoid them, but things had drastically changed. Mundus really was no better than him now. To Vergil, his powers were barely above those of a simple mortal…child.

Vergil folded his arms, continuing to anger Mundus with his calm avoidance of his attacks. He sighed deeply, keeping up the bored act, wanting to further weaken and tire the Darkness.

"Haven't you finished your tantrum yet?" he inquired mildly, sidestepping another blast.

Mundus struck out at him again. "INSOLENT FOOL!" he yelled, stirring another tired sigh from the half-devil. His eyes blazed and Vergil's scowl deepened.

"Give up," he stated smoothly, his sword appearing in his hand. His eyes flickered red before they shone blindingly blue. "It's over."

Without giving Mundus time to react to his statement, Vergil moved swiftly forward and plunged his sword into his former master's chest cavity, twisting the blade upwards into a wide gash. He wrinkled his nose as a flood of black blood poured onto him and he jerked out of they way, wrenching out his sword. Mundus hollered but Vergil continued his assault and soon had sliced his way through every part of the Darkness' body. His feet slipped in the large pool of dark blood but he managed to keep his balance.

"My father couldn't end your reign forever," said Vergil coldly, hissing, "My brother failed to destroy you completely…" He stood over the fallen devil, nearly ten times his size. "You managed to foil two Spardas, Mundus," he continued, somewhat smirking. "You should be proud…But unfortunately you won't be making it past the third."

Transforming into his devil form, Vergil flew up, swinging his sword high. He allowed himself to plummet to his knees, crashing his weapon down in the centre of Mundus' form. Fire erupted and blood burst from the sides of his sword and a chasm split beneath the darkness' body, widening enough to claim his entire girth. Mundus' cries were barely audible as the fire quickly incinerated him.

Vergil stood above the pit, watching the liquid fire engulf the last visible part of the former ruler of the underworld. He grinned, chuckling deep in his throat before he opened his mouth and tilted his head back, laughing manically for a long time. Not only was he free from Mundus. He was now the ruler of the underworld. He was the Dark Lord and all evil was at his command.

"Lord Vergil." He rather like the sound of that.

Snickering again at his newly gotten power, he disappeared from the room where Mundus had fallen. He went back to the dark looking pool and passed his hand above the softly rippling surface. His brother's face came back into view. And even his loathing for the devil hunter was not enough to wipe the dark smile from his face.

"Celebrate your victory while you can dear Brother. I promise you that you won't be seeing another…"

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Short. I know. But nobody wants to read a 3000 wrd prologue…I think. Anyway I'll try to have an actual chapter up soon. Please review and tell me what ya think.

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	2. Going Somewhere, Getting Nowhere

Finally got around to updating this. School works really heavy. As usual, I'll try to update when I can.

This particular update was written well into the early morning so I don't know how good it is and I was too lazy to proofread, so if there are any big mistakes that you guys notice, please let me know. (yeah. i fixed the mistake with Dante referring to DMC as such instead of Devil Never Cry. What do ya want for writing this thing at 3 am without proofreading?. Anyway...)

Otherwise…

Enjoy

**This is Wonderland**

**Chapter 2: _Getting Somewhere_**

"Enough of this." Vergil stroked his hand through the looking pool and the image of his brother rippled and then completely vanished as the liquid faded to black again. He'd been watching his brother's actions since he'd escaped with that treacherous blond woman from Mallet Island nearly three weeks ago—or so he presumed; there was no such thing as real time in the underworld, but it wasn't long enough for Vergil to feel completely comfortable with his newly gotten power. It was still too fresh and still too dreamlike for him to take seriously just yet. Though he was amusing himself by ordering the demons around to do his random bidding and keep his brother occupied and on his toes.

Vergil was more than pleased that all the evil he now ruled over had listened to him without question, even thought he had expected them too. The weak always searched for the something stronger than themselves for protection. The demons had latched on to him in the same manner that they had clung to the old Darkness. They'd follow any dark being blindly, just as Vergil had while he had stood amongst them. He would never go back to that. He was made for something more. And finally he had found his true calling. He wasn't a pawn. He was the Master.

As for his brother, Vergil learned that despite taking on a partner, Dante hadn't changed in the slightest. He was still the cocky devil hunter whom Vergil longed to drown in his own blood; though his business had taken on a new front. _Devil May Cry_ was now _Devil Never Cry_, which Vergil felt was a stupid substitute. True, he had never been a fan of his brother's business, but the new name certainly did not have the same ring to it that the old one had, and he told himself that he would have to remember to bring that up during the little chat he was bound to have with his brother in their next encounter.

Vergil could only assume that that wanton bitch that resembled his mother had brought on the name change. And it made him strongly believe that Trish would get in the way of his little revenge on his brother if she'd already managed to weasel her way into his work. It would be best to nip the problem in the butt as quickly as possible. Besides, he was itching to take out his anger on someone right now. His brother wouldn't get a taste of it just yet. Vergil wanted him to suffer and a simple confrontation to the death would not suffice.

He had all the power of the underworld. Why waste it?

"Get in here." The new dark lord's voice resounded across the room. His tone was angry and immediately a row of demons appeared before him, bowing their heads in veneration. "Stir up some trouble near my…brother's," the word came out with difficulty and was quickly followed by a deep scowl. Vergil folded his hands and rested his chin on his laced fingers. He looked at his small legion of demons darkly. "I want Devil May Cry to be busy. Divide the devil hunters' attentions. I don't want their powers combined. My brother is enough trouble on his own." Vergil paused a moment to sneer at the image he had of his brother in his mind before dropping his hands hard to armrests of his throne. "Don't kill him," he added sharply, as if the sorry lot of demons actually could. "But my brother doesn't get to sleep. And Trish doesn't get to live. Understand me?"

The demons didn't need to respond. They sunk into pools of red and were gone. Vergil sat back in his throne, infuriated for some reason or another. He didn't exactly know why. Perhaps it was just the thought of his brother that aroused his anger, but at least he was starting to do something about it. The demons wouldn't kill Dante but they would at least give him something to occupy his time while Vergil thought of a better fate for him

But what to do? It had to be something very painful and oh so humiliating; something to make his brother feel weak; to make Vergil revel that much more in his cocky sibling's defeat. He wanted his brother frustrated and to feel pain like any other pathetic mortal. The blood of Sparda would mean nothing flowing through his veins. He would BE nothing.

"Get up." Dante got a hard jab in his side. He turned over and grumbled, nearly rolling onto the arm attached to the poking fingers, and his eyelids sagged as he struggled to look at the hazy image of the leather-clad female standing at the edge of his bed.

"Wha?" he muttered sleepily.

"The phone's ringing," Trish said in a matter-of-fact tone that hinted that she wanted the devil hunter to do something about it.

Dante listened for a second and the annoyingly incessant chime confirmed what Trish had said. "So? Pick it up," he suggested. It wasn't as if he was the only one who could lift a receiver.

Trish hesitated. "…oh….Right." She nodded as if the thought of answering the phone herself had never occurred to her.

Dante rolled onto his back, the sheets slipping down to mid chest as he rubbed his eyes. "Just remember to say _Devil Never Cry_ when you answer the phone this time and the rest should take care of itself," he advised. "Also remind the dumbass on the line that we're not a 24 hour business. And unless it's a new routine, I'll be damned if I'm getting up at to dance with the Boogeyman at this hour in the morning." He yawned again, and bent his arm over his face, sighing. "The son of Sparda needs his beauty rest just like everybody else," he half mumbled into his skin. "Don't tell them that by the way," Dante added, quickly glancing at Trish before she left the room to answer the phone in the outer office.

While she was gone, the devil hunter pulled a pillow into his arms and hugged it while breathing loudly. He quickly began dozing off. His original plan of eavesdropping on the phone conversation was forgotten as his body decided that inspecting the backs of his heavy eyelids was much more exciting than what anyone had to call to say at 3:00 o'clock in the morning.

"Get up." It was that familiar poke in the side and for a moment Dante believed that he was merely suffering a case of déja vu. Then it happened half a dozen more times before the covers were unceremoniously yanked off of him. Dante curled up on himself, unintentionally wincing at the sudden lack of warmth. His eyes opened sluggishly to stare at the blond woman bearing down on him from the side of his bed for the second time that morning.

Didn't Trish know how to wake someone up gently? The devil hunter wondered this as he groaned and turned over, fully intending to go back to sleep.

"Who was it?" he asked, reaching blindly for the covers that were hanging off of the bed and draped over one of his feet. He promptly realized that his arm wasn't long enough to reach that far down and he scooted towards the edge of the mattress.

Trish caught his movements and grabbed the remaining portion of the blankets away from the shivering devil hunter. Served him right for sleeping half naked anyway.

"A job." she said somewhat coolly.

Dante glared at the blankets clutched in the blond woman's hand, willing them to spring back to him. Naturally they declined and offer and Dante growled softly, deciding to give up on sleep for the moment.

"Wow," he said none-too-enthusiastically. "Care to elaborate?"

Trish shook her head. "Just get dressed, Hero. The Boogeyman's throwing a party."

Dante raised an eyebrow. "Oh really?" he smirked. "Our invites must've gotten lost in the mail. Guess we better crash the party. Show'em there's no hard feelings, huh?"

Trish smiled and crossed back to the door as Dante got up and stretched, exhaling loudly as he stood up straight and went for his gear.

"Outside. One minute, or I get to drive." Trish challenged.

Dante snorted. "30 seconds Babe. And since I'm feelin' generous, I'll even give the clock a twenty second head start."

Trish shook her head and walked out of the room. _Cocky Bastard_…"10…" she began the countdown, "9…8…" She passed through the office. "7…6…5…" Grabbing the handles, she opened DNC's doors to the greying morning. She breathed in the fresh air, thankful for the change in atmosphere. "4…3…2…"

"One," Dante patted Trish on the shoulder, grinning broadly as they both stood on the landing outside Devil Never Cry with their weapons slung over their shoulders.

Trish turned her head to the devil hunter and scowled. "Damn…"

"But HOW?" Vergil tossed his fist angrily in the air before banging it down on his throne, leaning his elbow on the armrest. "How?" He slumped to the side, staring off at nothing on the dark walls of the throne room. He pinched his bottom lip loosely in this hand as he thought. "…how?" He still couldn't decide what he wanted to do with his brother and it was really frustrating him.

Releasing a growl, he suddenly stood and marched across the throne room and out the large black doors, not even bothering to touch the exaggeratedly big iron knockers as he opened them with a wave of his hand. Vergil passed into the darkened hallway just outside the room and wandering hurriedly, but aimlessly through the corridors. His gaze was to the floor but he wasn't watching where he was going. All he saw was black and the tint of red from his anger, occasionally silver as loose strands of hair curled into his eyes. This quickly became irksome and he grabbed a fist into his hair, holding up his bangs as he continued at his infuriated pace.

Where was he going? He didn't know, but a soft voice behind him informed him that he was at least going the wrong way.

Vergil growled and turned on his heel, facing back the way he had come. His eyes narrowed at the young girl who had dared to speak to him. "What did you say whelp?" The girl merely stared at him emotionlessly, giving Vergil the time to take in her full appearance.

He noticed that she wore a simple, faded dress with a sash around the waist. The material was grey for the most part, but tinted yellow in some places and Vergil guessed that it must have been white at one point but the long neglect of the garment had changed that, especially judging by the torn and frayed hems all along the skirt and short sleeves.

She wore nothing on her feet and her skin was pale, near ghostlike, though her cheeks at least had a slight blush to them. Her features were delicate and her eyes were wide and dark as coal, holding the expected childlike curiosity in them; but there was something about her stare that Vergil had to admit he found disconcerting.

This little girl was far from what she appeared.

"I simply told you that you are going the wrong way," the little girl stated in her soft, unthreatening voice. It seemed that she now thought it was the proper time to answer.

Vergil frowned at her and narrowed his eyes. "How can I be going the wrong way if I don't even know where I was headed?" he asked in annoyance.

The child stared at him and shook her head slowly, seemingly in disapproval. "You'll never get there if you don't know where you're going," she said.

"Get there?" Vergil scowled deeper in confusion. He had almost had enough of the little girl already. She was making him think too much. "Get where?" he continued, raising an eyebrow.

"Anywhere." The little girl said simply with a casual wave of her hand.

Vergil wanted to snap at the girl but managed to contain himself. She wasn't worth his time and he quickly turned away, stalking off the direction he had been going in previously.

"You're still going the wrong way." The girl was directly in front of Vergil now. He hadn't even heard her move, or seen her for that matter.

"How?"

"Come." The girl held out her hand. "I'll show you where to go."

Vergil wrinkled his nose at the hand. There was no way he was touching the child. "Where?" he asked bluntly.

"There," said the girl, keeping up her puzzling responses.

"Where?" Vergil scowled darkly. He could see this portion of conversation wasn't going anywhere either. "You're going to show me the RIGHT way?" he asked snidely.

The girl shook her head, giggling softly. "Oh. Don't you know? There is no "right" way. Or "wrong" way…There is only HER way. But you'll find that out. Come." She reached out and grabbed Vergil's hand, not giving him a chance to respond. When he did feel her cold palm press against his and her small digits coil around his hand, he froze in place and glared, trying to jerk his hand back.

Surprisingly he couldn't. Either the child was unnaturally and disturbingly strong, or she seemed to have some power over him.

"Come," she said again, her voice a little hollow sounding. "We're going to be late."

Late for what? And how could I be going the "wrong" way if there is no WRONG way. And who the hell was this child referring to when she said there is only HER way? 

Damn he was confused.

K that's it. Like I said, if there are any major problems, let me know. Don't tell me about little typos mind you. I won't bother fixing those. So…

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